


The Things We Grow

by QueSeraAwesome



Series: Domestic AU [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Cousins, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Reunions, Gardens & Gardening, M/M, Meet the Family, Toddlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraAwesome/pseuds/QueSeraAwesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kellan always has liked taking care of things that are growing. He's the perfect one to baby-sit while everyone else gets ready for the Freelancer Invasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Grow

**Author's Note:**

> Set Directly before Parental Advisory

“You probably won’t remember everyone,” Kellan says. He frowns at a particularly stubborn weed that’s clinging to his tomato vines. Or maybe the tomato vines are clinging to it. Ugh. He’ll have to take care of that later when he has more time. “That’s okay, they’ll remember you. But a littler you. It’ll be like meeting you all over again, because you’re bigger now.”

The toddler nods at him and tiptoes around a sprout in the middle of the path, her blue sneakers careful on the packed earth. He decides not to tell her it’s just another weed.

She follows after him, inspecting the plants with a finger to her chin, mouth a pout of seriousness. Every so often she tips her little watering can over one of them. It’s empty. Hes' learned a lot from Simra. Kellan takes a drink from his water bottle and moves on.

“Tomatoes need a lot of water,” he says. “Especially when it’s hot like this. Do you want a drink?”

She pats the little sippy-cup hanging off the side of her overalls and shakes her head. Kellan sighs. That’s twice now. He wasn’t this little when he started gardening, but he doesn’t know how Papa dealt with it. At least she’s shorter than most of the plants, there’s some shade. Carolina had assured him she didn’t need sunglasses, but still. It’s hot out here, the air thick with the smell of green and heated earth. Bugs buzz around them and over their heads.

She stops to look at a particularly fat tomato vine, little forehead screwed up in obvious disapproval. Then, she tips the entire can upside down over it and holds it there for a few seconds before looking to him for approval.

“I wetted it!” she tells him, beaming. 

“Good job!” he says. “Let’s do the next row, okay?”

She seems content listening to him, so he continues on to the next section of the garden. Tomatoes on the left, pumpkins on the right.

“Your daddy told me you look like your grandma.” He pauses, unsure how to continue. She looks up at him, blinking those big gray eyes from behind her baby-blonde hair. “I didn’t even know my grandma. And I’m don’t think it would have been a good idea. Knowing how my mom and dad were.”

There isn’t anything else to say about that. Nothing she should hear.

“See, the kind of family I’ve got is a holding-on family,” he tells her. “We’re family ‘cause we hold on to each other. We don’t have any blood or anything, it’s just because we want to and keep holding on to each other. We got to choose.”

She takes his hand and swings it between them.

"Hold hands?" she asks.

"Yeah, like holding hands," he says. She keeps swinging the hand between them before getting bored and continues pretending to water the plants.

“So, that’s why we’re cousins,” he continues. “Because your Mommy and my Dad and Papa are hand-holding family with each other. And I’m gonna choose to be your cousin. Okay? And everyone who’s coming over today is like family to your mom and dad, so it’s like they’re yours too.”

“Hands fam’ly?” she asks, holding up her own hand.

“That’s right,” Kellan says. “They might look kind of scary. And some of them kinda are if you don’t know them well. But they’re not. They’ll be nice, or your mom and my dad will punch them and kick them out. So you don’t have to be afraid when they all come over in a bit, okay? Even if they’re really loud.”

“Loud like _bang_ ,” she adds.

“Only if we’re unlucky,” he tells her, smile tugging at his lips.

She picks up a cherry tomato that’s fallen off the vine, red on one side and yellow on the other. She tries to stick it back on, making frustrated noises when it doesn’t work. She whines at him, pointing between the tomato and the plant.

“I can’t fix it,” he says “It fell off. It can’t go back on.”

“Wet it?” she asks, holding up her watering can.

“Nope,” he says. “Water’ll help it make a new tomato, but it won’t get that one back on.”

“’Tato bye-bye?” she asks, cradling the little yellow and red orb in her palms.

“Yeah,” he says. “it’s gotta go byebye.”

She pats the plant, as if to comfort it for its loss, and then holds the tomato out to him.

“You can keep it,” he says. “You found it.”

“Kay.”

She sticks it in the front pocket of her overalls. He really hopes it doesn’t squish in there. Aunt Carolina probably doesn’t want a tomato goop-covered toddler returned to her. She beams at him, happy about her prize. He smiles back, though there’s something about it that feels almost like sadness to him.

“You’re gonna be lucky,” he tells her, kneeling down to look her in the eye. “’Cause you’re gonna have both. Grandma eyes and hands-families.”

She pokes his cheek, right under one eye and he winces. She's got surprisingly sharp fingers.

“Spots,” she says.

“Freckles,” he corrects. “Like your Uncle Wash.”

She pats his cheek again, like she’s trying to be gentle.

“Kellan.”

He looks up to see his Dad watching them from the porch. There’s a faint smile in his eyes.

“Everybody arriving soon?” Kellan asks. Maine nods.

“Time to go inside,” he tells her. He takes her hand to help her maneuver out of the garden.

“Spots, spots,” she sings. She doesn’t drop his hand once they’re clear, holds on and starts pulling him toward the house. “Spots Wash, spots. Kel spots. Spots!”

“You should show my dad your tomato,” Kellan whispers in her ear. “I bet he’ll pick you up. He likes making things easy for kids.”

She giggles and tries to pull him faster toward the house. He digs in his heels, and she laughs, pushing and pulling him until they’ve made it to the porch.

“Have fun?” Maine asks.

“I think so,” Kellan replies.

“Lookit!” she yells, digging in her pocket.

She gets the tomato out, only slightly squished and holds it up for him. She has to tip her head all the way back to see him. Maine has to bend over slightly.

“Tato,” she tells Maine.

He nods solemnly, but his eyes are kind. She takes a step forward, reaches up to shove it into his hand. She pats his knuckles, whispers “hands,” to herself and then dashes off into the house. Maine raises an eyebrow at Kellan. His smile manages to part his lips as he looks at the little girl’s gift, dwarfed by his palm.

“She could be a good gardener one day,” Kellan says.

He can hear her calling for her mom and dad inside the house. A moment later he sees her and Simra run by, hand and hand, still yelling for Aunt Carolina and Uncle York. Yikes. It’s not that big of a house. Maine stretches out an arm towards him and for a minute Kellan thinks he’s gonna offer the tomato back. He’s ready to refuse when instead, his Dad’s arm wraps around his shoulders. From the house they hear the sound of the front door opening, a woman’s voice, “Anybody home?” His dad squeezes the arm wrapped around him; Kellan rolls his eyes.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go inside.”


End file.
